


Labor of Love

by Darth_Ezzy_Of_Gallifrey



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Dark Tony Stark, Extremis Tony Stark, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by "Warriors" - Imagine Dragons, Multi, Slow painful descend into Stony Hell, Steve Rogers is Not Well, Technopathy, The writer feeds on readers tears, Unlikely Team-up, Villain Tony Stark, Winter Soldier AU, tony stark is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Ezzy_Of_Gallifrey/pseuds/Darth_Ezzy_Of_Gallifrey
Summary: Tony Stark died in Sokovia.At least, that's what the World believes.





	1. Ashes

 

 

_Farewell_

_I’ve gone to take my throne above_

_Don’t weep for me_

_‘Cause this will be the labor of my love_

 

 

There was something terribly wrong in seeing Tony’s smile surrounded by a crown of white flowers. Steve kept staring at the picture, as waiting to wake up from a nightmare. Everyone else had already left the church, but he just sat there. Paralysed.

For the millionth time, he asked himself how did that happen. The battle of Sokovia replayed in his head. The civilians were safe. He was catching his breath, the voice of the Helicarrier motors howling in his ears. The city was falling. Tony was saying something in the radio, but Rogers could not understand. They had been his last words to him and he didn’t catch them. Steve felt sick.

Someone touched his shoulder.

“Hey” Natasha said, sitting next to him on the bench.

“Hey” he muttered back.

“Can I give you a ride home?”

Steve shook his head.

“Come on,” she insisted “It’s pouring outside.”

“My bike…”

“We can send someone for it later.”

Steve’s eyes locked on the flowers. He didn’t choose them, he wouldn’t know how to. You’d think after the life he went through, after all the friends he lost, he’d know exactly what flowers to pick for a funeral. That was not the case. When he had lost his mother, it was an aunt who decorated the coffins with daisies. When Bucky had died, there were no flowers around. And no body to bury. Just like now.

He accepted Natasha’s offer, even if company was the last thing he craved for. As they drove through the grey streets of New York, Steve scanned the crowd outside. A circus of managers and homeless, with an without umbrellas, hurrying when the light turned green or just standing there, as if the rain didn’t matter. Steve examined every face, looking for Tony. Any trimmed beard or Black Sabbath hoodie made him jump and each sting of hope shattered him a bit more. He was crumbling, but he couldn’t stop looking.

At the next traffic light, he felt Natasha’s glance on him.

“Steve?”

“Nat.”

She her hand left the wheel to hold his. It was a firm grip, her fingers were warm and any other day their touch would have calmed him.

“There was nothing more you could do, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’m.”

“Steve.”

He knew what she was doing and he would have done just the same for her, had Banner be the one in the picture. Steve returned the grip on her hand. Sadly, Natasha was wrong. He could have done much more. He could have listened better and remember Tony's last words. Or at least - Steve felt a noose closing around his neck - at least he could have stayed in Sokovia and dig the ruins until he found him.

Steve massaged the bridge of his nose, struggling to hold back the tears, because he knew that if he had start crying he might never be able to stop.

He had not even be able to bring Tony’s broken body home.

Nat parked in front of the Avengers Tower.

“Actually, I’d prefer to go home” Steve said, trying not to sound ungrateful.

He really didn’t feel like facing the function. All those people dressed in black, the untouched food getting cold in his plate, the booze that couldn’t get him drunk. This was not the way Tony would have wanted his funeral, Steve reflected. He would have made a spectacle out of it and ordered shawarma and New York pizza for the buffet. He could almost see him, turning his nose at all the sobriety.

“This is home” Nat replied “He left it to you.”

It took him a moment to understand what she meant: “The Tower?”

“The Tower, the new Compound uptown…” She explained, with a bitter smile “Everything regarding the Avengers is now yours. You’d know if you had come to the testament reading.”

Speechless, Steve glanced at the Tower.

“Congratulations, boss.” He heard Natasha say.

* * *

_“This where you live?” Tony says, staring horrified at the small Brooklyn apartment._

_Steve raises an eyebrow: “You don’t like it?”_

_“Uhm, well, it looks… cozy?”_

_“Tony.”_

_“How old is that dishwasher?”_

_“I never use it.”_

_“I bet, it belongs to a museum!”_

_“Ain’t that fitting?” Rogers chuckles, taking a sip of coffee._

_Tony fiddles with the drawers, his eyes scanning the room behind the orange sunglasses. Steve knows he is making a mental list of all the things he would substitute with his latest tech._

_“I bet Fury chose it” Tony grumbles._

_“It’s not that bad. You should have seen this neighborhood while I grew up.”_

_Stark makes a little sniff. He always does that when he’s uncertain._

_“You know,” Tony sits on the sofa next to Rogers “They are selling this cool loft with a view on Central Park, warehouse design, vintage brick walls, very hipster. Don’t you think-“_

_“I don’t need you to buy me a house, Tony,” he stops him with a laugh “I like it here.”_

_He nods, but Steve has the feeling he will buy the loft anyway. Presents are one of the ways Tony tries to show his affection to people; Steve has learned that and, though he understands this, he wishes Tony wouldn’t feel like he has to prove he cares for him at every single step._

_“So no loft?”_

_“No.”_

_“Can I show you the pictures, at least?”_

_“No.”_

_“Arrange a viewing?” He smirks._

_“Thank you Tony, but no.”_

_“Okay” he pretends to surrender “Your loss, Grandpa.”_

_Steve leans back on the sofa: “So the Avengers are assembling again?”_

_“Apparently.”_

_“Where are the troops heading?”_

_“A cold and depressing place called Sokovia” Tony explained, adjusting his sunglasses._

_“What’s there?”_

_“HYDRA.”_

_Steve feels a shiver of adrenaline in his veins._

_“We’re looking for a Captain to lead us” Stark continues “Do you know of anyone who could be interested in the job?”_

_“Depends.”_

_“On what?”_

_“Do we get shawarma afterwards?”_

_Tony’s grin widens: “And chips, obviously.”_

* * *

It was just like Steve had feared. A lot of people with dark dresses, sipping flutes of champagne and offering their condolences. They introduced themselves, but he forgot their names as soon as he heard them. Steve pretended to be interested in what they had to say; how tragic Tony was dead, he was still young, the world lost a bit of light and many more meaningless phrases. He would have gone mad, if Thor hadn’t slipped him a bit of his personal reserve.

At six o’clock the final guests walked out of the Tower and the Avengers were left alone. They sat in the lounge, like they did the night Ultron was unleashed, only there was no laughter this time, no bottles scattered around and no one tried to lift Mjolnir. The sound of the rain just made the silence heavier.

Steve observed his friends, one by one. Natasha rested her head on Bruce’s shoulder, eyes lost in the void, while the doctor fiddled with an half-empty glass. Clint sipped his beer. Thor seemed to be light-years away from them. The founding Avengers, or whatever was left of them.

He cleared his voice: “I think, maybe… Should we all say something?”

For a second, he doubted they even heard him, then Bruce drank his champagne to the drop and took off his glasses.

“Tony was never afraid of me,” he said, slurring a bit “He was the first to make me feel okay with what I am. I know all of you have accepted me, especially you Nat, but Tony… Tony was the first true friend I had in a very long time.”

Romanoff slipped her hand in his, showing her support.

“He was ridiculously selfless” she continued “He couldn’t care less if he was hurt, as long as everyone else was safe.”

Barton nodded: “Son of a gun.”

That was all the archer managed to say.

“I know Anthony Stark is feasting in Valhalla right now,” Thor added.

Steve stared at the bottom of his glass, where a bit of Asgardian liquor was left. He wasn’t sure what to say. The skinny Brooklin kid would have prayed God to welcome Tony in Heaven, but he knew what Tony would have said, that Heaven was boring and they had way better music in Hell. He could almost see him, sitting in the empty armchair with a martini in one hand and an amused grin on his face.

“What’s with the long faces?” Tony would have asked “Did somebody kill the cat?”

“Can people hear us from Valhalla?” Rogers asked.

Thor nodded.

This time, Steve could not hold back the tears: “Okay then. Tony, if you are there you should know we miss you. And we love you. A lot. So…” He raised the glass “To Iron Man.”

After the toast, Thor stood up and started singing. Steve did not recognize the language, yet the song managed to strike right into his core. The pain of loss grew as the ballad continued then, with the last note, he felt like something was lifted from him. It would take time, years and years, but now Steve knew one day he would be ready to let go.

* * *

“Everything is ready Dr Frost” the assistant confirmed.

Whitney felt a thrill in her veins, like she had never experienced before. There she was, HYDRA’s top scientist with her heart pounding like a teenager before prom. She examined the man on her lab bench; he looked so helpless in his sleep, but there was a reason why there were solid metal bands holding him down. God knew what would happen, when they finally awaken him. Whitney caressed his hair, motherly. Then her fingers moved down the neck, to touch the wires attached to the man’s spine, and down again to his chest. There was a circular scar just in the middle of it. Dr Frost couldn’t help a wild smile appearing on her lips.

HYDRA was weak and scattered, but with her creation and the help of their new investor they would rise again. Cut down one head…

Whitney stepped back from the bench.

“Film everything” she ordered one of her assistants “Our investor will want to see the whole operation.”

Dr Frost extracted a notebook from her lab coat; it had a simple dark red cover, with a black star in the middle.

“Power up” she commanded.

Electricity flowed in the wires, into the man’s spine. He shuddered. The whole lab was holding its breath.

“Cerebral activity is regular, Dr Frost.”

She realised her hands trembled with excitement. With her most confident smile, she turned to the recording camera. Whitney wanted their investor to feel like he was in the lab himself.

“Subject T-5 was completely paralysed when we found him,” she explained “The spine had to be completely rebuilt using a modified version of the Extremist Serum. By our initial tests, it appears the treatment produced a number of unexpected side effects and changes in the subject’s cerebral activity. We think T-5 might have developed enhanced qualities.”

Clearing her voice, Whitney opened the book. She really ought to stop shaking.

“The Winter Soldier protocol should allow us to take complete control of T-5,” the doctor kept going “We will now proceed with the awakening.”

She move closer to the man, until there was just a step separating them Whitney could feel the electricity around him.

She began: “Longing. Rusted…”

T-5’s pupils started moving beneath the closed eyelids.

“Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace…”

A quick movement in his fingers. Dr Frost’s heart pounded so violently it almost covered the generator noise.

“Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One.”

Finally HYDRA would take back its right place on top of the world and Whitney Frost would sit on its throne. Her creature would take care of the Avengers, one by one!

“Freight car.”

T-5’s eyes opened. Whitney stared right in his pupils, for a second she forgot how to breathe. There was something new in them, a faint bluish light behind the darkness. Like the last gasp of a star, before a black hole devoured it. She had never seen something so beautiful.

“Soldier?” Whitney called him.

T-5 stared at her, tilting his head like an animal: “What is this?” He asked, with clam confusion “What is this, please?”

The doctor felt a cold stab of fear in her stomach. This was not supposed to happen. She glanced at her staff and saw on their faces the same eeriness that had invaded her.

“Soldier?” She repeated, trying to keep calm.

“This feels weird,” the other muttered, barely even looking at her.

“Soldier!”

T-5’s eyes lashed back, penetrating Whitney like icy darts. The handles of the bench snapped open, breaking him free.

The doctor jumped back and roared to her assistants: “Idiots! What are you doing?”

“It’s not us!” Somebody shout.

T-5 stood up, looking at the scientists with an eerie mixture of wonder and amusement. The blue in his pupils seemed to shine brighter. Whitney watched in horror as every screen in the room lit up at the same time; she had no doubt who was doing it.

“It’s- It’s out of control,” she told the camera, hoping it was still rolling “T-5 appears to be affecting technology!”

Every machine in the room was coming to life. The lights flicked, the rifles of the guards started shooting anyone in their range, circuits exploded in bright flares. One hit Dr Frost, who fell on the ground with a cry. She could smell her burned hair. Whitney crawled among the lab tables, trying to find cover.

“Technopathy, we can’t contain him!” She screamed.

Their investor had to know. Whitney hid behind a fallen shelf. Everything had gone wrong. Why didn’t the Winter Soldier protocol work? What mistake had she made? She covered her ears, trying not to listen to the sharp whip of electricity, to the scream of her colleagues dying. When the silence came, though, it was more terrifying than any other sound.

Trembling, Whitney dared to take a look outside her hiding. The floor was littered with corpses, it seemed she was the only one left alive. Where was T-5? Could it be he was gone? Whitney leaned out a bit more. Maybe she could make it, she though. Maybe if she was quick enough, she could sneak out of the lab and save her life. She would put the facility on block down and come back with an army to tame T-5. But she had to run. Now.

Dr Frost sprang out of her hiding. She slipped on blood, but she regain her balance and kept running. She could make it. The adrenaline was like fire in her veins. She could make it. Her hand reached out to the door handle, but something grabbed her by the lab coat. Whitney’s scream faded out as T-5 pushed her against the wall, his arm blocking the doctor’s windpipe.

She stared in her creation’s eyes. There was no humanity left in them, just that cold blue light.

“S- Stark” she wheezed.

“Stark?” T-5 tilted his head, as if reflecting “There is no Stark here.”

A cable closed around her throat, forcing Whitney on her knees as it strangled her. The last thing Dr Frost saw in her life was T-5 walking away and sitting at her desk.

“Computer,” the man said “Are you online?”

The machine wired in response.

“Good. Now, tell me all that’s going on.”

Darkness swallowed her.


	2. Oncoming

Bucky knew what kind of risks he was facing when he decided to go to Sokovia. The whole world was looking for him, and volunteering in a top news spot was likely the fastest way to get caught. Yet six months had passed and nobody  had recognized him. Not a single person, policeman or reporter, had noticed the Winter Soldier lifting rubbles and building shelters. It was almost disappointing, unless… He glanced around, wary.

It was market day, the square was crowded with stands selling groceries, sweets and local farming products. It wouldn’t have been difficult for someone to follow him unnoticed. Bucky paid the bucket of plums while looking over his shoulder.

As he headed home he wondered if that man, Rogers, knew he was there. Was he keeping him safe? Part of him came to Sokovia because he hoped to see him again, finally shedding some light on his past. Of course, approaching Captain America when you were a criminal on the run wasn’t exactly easy.

The apartment block where he lived had been closed and marked for demolition months before. A fragile concrete box. Dangerous, maybe, but empty. He sneaked in a hole in the fence, to the dusty courtyard. It used to be a playground before Ultron; the skeleton of the swings was still up, crooked and rusty. If Bucky looked at ground, he could see ghosts of chalk drawings, suffocating beneath the ruins. That fading memory of a happier time reminded him of himself. Maybe that was why he kept living in the block, despite the fact it could crumble on his head.

As soon as he set foot inside the foyer, he knew something was off. At first he didn’t realize what, but then he heard it again, echoing in the abandoned corridors. Music. Adrenaline rushed through his muscles instantly.

Bucky got the backpack off his shoulders and opened the zip. He put his grocery inside . Without making a sound, Barnes took the stairs to his apartment.

As he got closer, he recognized one of the vinyls he had found abandoned in the flat. Maybe he left it on? No, he wasn’t like him to be that careless. It had to be an intruder. Bucky’s hand reached out to the back of his jeans, feeling the grip of the gun. If he was lucky, it was just some local kids fucking around. If he wasn’t… His stomach twisted as he thought of the second option.

Six months. It was the longest time he had been awake without a mission to carry out. Without killing. He really didn’t want to bring the count back to zero, but if he had to defend himself he couldn’t afford that luxury.

His heart didn’t pound when he approached the apartment door. They had made him to be cold and ready, just like a blade. Bucky took deep breath anyway, taking the gun out.

The entrance was slightly open, so all he had to do was give it a little push for the loud music to come streaming out.

_“Pushing through the market square, so many mothers sighing_

_News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in...”_

Buck stormed inside, pointing his weapon at the intruder. As he feared, it wasn’t kids. The man examining the David Bowie album in his living room wore combat boots, worn out jeans and a hoodie; on top of that, a long coat which Bucky would have recognized anywhere. A HYDRA uniform.

“Don’t move” Barnes warned.

Every instinct was telling Bucky to kill the man on the spot, but he couldn’t. First he had to know how they found him and if there were others coming. But then the stranger turned around and he saw his face. Barnes’ jaw almost dropped.

“Oh, hello Sergeant!” the intruder welcomed him with a grin “You don’t mind I put on some tunes, right? You have quite the collection. All scavenged, I suppose?”

Bucky couldn’t believe his own eyes: “ _Stark?_ Tony Stark?!”

The other raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Look who’s talking! How old are you? One-hundred or something?” he replied and went back examining the vinyl cover, as if there was no gun pointing towards his head “To answer your question, no, I’m not Tony Stark. Common mistake. I see where you’re coming from. You can call me… Five. Yes, Five will do.”

Bucky frowned. Had he made it up on the spot? Like he didn’t know his own name just a few seconds before? Whatever was going on, he had no intention to lower the weapon. That seemed to disappoint Five.

“Suit yourself,” he said, crushing on the dusty sofa “May I have a plum, please?”

A shiver ran down his spine: “How do you know-?”

“The cameras told me.”

“The… cameras?”

“Huh-huh.”

“You planted cameras in my house?”

“No, dummy,” Five snorted, with the same tone he would have used to explain the Earth was round “They are everywhere, you just have to listen.”

Very few thing had the power to creep Bucky out, but Five tilting his head to the side, as if he was _actually_ listening to the cameras whispering in his ear, was definitely one of them.

The intruder sniffed: “Someone is spying you, though. They have been for months.”

Bucky swallowed: “HYDRA?”

“Uhm? No. No. Took care of HYDRA,” Five replied “They are more or less dead. Well, most of them are.”

So the coat was a trophy? That didn’t make Bucky feel better.

He studied Five. The intruder seemed continuously distracted. His eyes ran away from Barnes, bolting left and right and back again. The pupils were not black, Bucky realised. It almost looked like a faint blue glow leaked from behind them.

“Does the name Romanoff sound familiar?” Five inquired, probably already knowing the answer.

“She’s the one watching me?”

“I believe your friend Rogers asked her.”

Bucky snorted: “For not being Tony Stark, you seem to know a lot about the Avengers.”

“Again, I just listen carefully,” Five eyed the gun “You’re not putting that away, are you?”

“Not until you tell me what you want, I’m not.”

The other chuckled: “I’m here to get you what _you_ want, Soldier.”

“Which is?”

“A meeting with the Captain himself.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t reply.  

“I know, I know” Five said, raising his hands in surrender. They were covered by gloves which looked a bit too stuffed. Ten to one, he was hiding something underneath.

“I know what you’re thinking. You are thinking ‘how can I trust him’? I don’t blame you. I wear the body of a dead man and an HYDRA coat. I listen to cameras. I broke into your shelter and made myself a cheese sandwich. Sorry about that. I wouldn’t trust me either, not without… A token of goodwill, mayhaps?”

Five took something out of his breast pocket and tossed it at Bucky’s feet. He almost jumped away when he recognized the red cover of the Winter Soldier notebook.

The intruder looked amused: “Nasty little shit, hey?”

With a kick, Bucky sent the book far away from Five’s reach.

“Where did you find it?” He asked, trying to control the instinct to run.

“They tried to use it on me,” Five explained “See? I could force you to help me, but instead I’m asking nicely.”

Bucky hesitated, trying to make sense of every piece of info Five was throwing at him. So he went into the Program too, yet he behaved nothing like a Soldier. Something must have gone wrong with the process, which made Five a lot more dangerous.

The vinyl had kept playing in the meantime. The song was almost at the end.

“ _We've got five years, my brain hurts a lot_

_We've got five years, that's all we've got…”_

He could easily shoot him and get back to his life. Or he could listen to him. Bucky weighed the first option. The intruder surely was creepy, but he didn’t look invulnerable or even armed. A bullet and all would have been over, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. If there was the chance to see Rogers, why not take it?

Bucky looked Five in the eye, trying to discern something beyond his expression. Finally, he lowered the gun.

“Okay,” Barnes said “I’m listening.”

* * *

He wasn’t able to stop his leg from tapping. Rogers sat on the armchair, restless. Once again he glanced at the magazines orderly spread on the low glass table, searching for anything even remotely interesting to read. International politics? He hadn’t the stomach for it at the moment. Sports? By the cover, there seemed to be nothing about baseball. Tech? Tony would have picked that.

It hit him like a slap. How long since he had last thought of Tony? Anyone would have told him it was a good sign, that he was moving on and overcoming grief, but Steve only felt guilty for forgetting him.

He leaned back on the armchair, trying to find a position so the suit he was wearing wouldn’t suffocate him. Steve fiddled with the tie; had had nothing against ties, but this one felt more like a noose. Maybe he was overreacting.

“They just want to talk, Cap,” Natasha had told him on the phone “Just talk.”

Somehow, that didn’t reassure him.

Finally, the door of the foyer opened. Steve jumped on his feet as a concierge peaked in.

“You can come in, Captain,” the man said, keeping the door open for him.

With his mouth dry, Rogers adjusted his jacket and entered the meeting room. Everyone was there already. Natasha and Clint, arms crossed and suspicious glares. Banner, trying his best to make himself invisible. Vision calmly holding Wanda’s hand; the kid looked like a lamb who just realized she’s lost in the woods, and the wolves are howling. Wilson was there as well, fiddling with a pen. At the head of the table, right in front of the empty chair prepared for Steve, sat the man who summoned them. Secretary Ross.

“Welcome Captain,” Ross smiled.

How did he managed to make ‘captain’ sound like an insult, Steve wondered?

The Secretary cleared his throat: “I see no point in beating around the bush. Have you considered our offer, Captain Rogers?”

“I did.”

“And your response?”

“It’s the same.”

Ross’ glare could have melted the iceberg Steve passed seventy years inside: “It’s a shame to see the Avengers divided on the Sokovia Accords.”

Rogers couldn’t agree more. He shot a quick glance at Natasha, but the spy endured his stare without looking away. Steve wished he could have the same certainty she had.

“I believe the Accords would not resolve anything, sir” he explained “They would just shift the blame.”

Steve saw Falcon and Clint nodding in agreement. At least he was not fighting alone.

“I’m sorry you feel like that, Captain,” Ross replied between his teeth “I hoped things would have gone more smoothly.”

There was nothing smooth about the past six months, Steve thought hours later, as he looked at the sea of New York lights. The air at the top of Avenger Tower prickled his skin, but he didn’t mind the cold. Up there, alone, he could finally breathe.

Rogers closed his eyes and filled his lungs. He pushed the Accords away from his mind and for a moment, just a moment, he seemed to travel back in time. Those victory parties of ages before. Tony dazzling the room with a bourbon on the rocks in his hand. He would always drag Steve into the mix, introducing him to people, just making sure he wasn’t feeling out of place.

What would have Tony said about the Accords?

Steve tried to picture him, leaning on the balcony next to him. Unafraid to be so close to the void. In his mind, Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” he said “You want _me_ to tell you how to be responsible?”

“You are responsible, Tony.”

“Yeah,” he made a little sniff “I am also dead, in case you forgot.”

How could he ever?

“You think I should reconsider?”

“I think I’m the product of your imagination, so my opinion doesn’t really matter.”

Steve had to admit that was a good point.

The sound of heels on concrete brought him back to reality.

“Hey” he said as Natasha stopped at his side, a tired expression on her face.

“Steve,” sha said “Let’s not fight.”

“You know that’s not what I want.”

“But you still won’t sign.”

“Nope.”

“Please, think about it,” Natasha insisted “It’s a good compromise. We have to do this now, or it will be done to us later. And you’re not going to like that.”

He snorted: “A few years ago, you told these same people to kiss your ass.”

She shrugged: “Times change. We changed.”

“I don’t want the Avengers to become a property of the United Nations.”

“Steve-”

“These people will have their own agenda, Nat. What if they send us somewhere we are not supposed to be? What if they forbid us to go where we are needed? If we want to protect Earth, we can’t risk it.”

“Someone has to check on us, Steve.”

“I don’t see the need.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she snapped “How about this? If the Accords had been there six months ago, Tony would be still alive!”

Her words were like a punch in his stomach.

“They would have never allowed him to create Ultron,” Nat continued, merciless “We’d still have him, if only-”

“You don’t know that” Roger lashed back.

He couldn’t believe Natasha was playing on that to convince him. It was a low blow, even for her. And yet, an annoying voice in the back of his head kept whispering she was not wrong.

“I know I don’t want to lose anybody else,” she replied, coldly.

Neither did he, but he couldn’t sign those papers. After all that happened with SHIELD, with the World Council, Steve had developed a fair dose of distrust for governments and bureaucrats. The Avengers functioned only because they hadn’t ties.

Natasha gave him a frustrated glare.

“Suit yourself,” she said “But Tony would have signed.”

Steve watched her marching away. He kept replaying her last words in his head, wondering if she was right. Suddenly he felt exhausted. He turned once again to Tony’s ghost.

“Would you?” Steve asked him “For real?”

Tony chuckled softly: “You mean after I built an evil AI that almost destroyed the Earth? What do you think?”

Rogers rubbed the bridge of his nose. All he could think about was how much he would have given to have Tony back.  

* * *

_Days of digging and all Zemo could find were three lifeless pieces of meat. Helmut can’t even look at what is left of his family._

_“This is not my son,” he keeps thinking “This is not my father. This is not my wife.”_

_They must be still somewhere beneath the rubbles. People can survive for days, with some luck. They are waiting for him. He just has to keep digging._

_His comrades have tried to convince him to give up. There are other people to save, they said. His country needs him, now more than ever. Helmut doesn’t care. His home is in ruins, what does he have left to fight for? Nothing._

_It’s almost midnight and he has lost count of how many debrits he has moved today. Still, he doesn’t stop. Why didn’t the city collapse on him too, he wonders. Why did God spare his life, only to take away everything he held dear? Zemo shoves a plank aside. For every stone he moves, a piece of his pain turns into rage. He can feel it mounting like a tide._

_The Avengers. They are to blame. They came, scorched his world and left without a second thought. They created the monster who laid waste on Sokovia. And there is nothing Helmut would like more than giving them a taste of their same medicine. But how?_

_The light of his torch shines on something beneath the rubbles, blinding him for a moment. Zemo squints, trying to discern a shape. It looks like a metal hand. Probably what is left of one of Ultron’s droids._

_He kneels to examine it. The arm is battered and covered in dust; Zemo brings the torc closer, wondering if, under the rubbles, it’s still attached to the body. Maybe it can be useful to him, he thinks as he swipes the dust away. If the droid is still intact, he can sell it in the black market. He knows of people who would pay for it. Enough to allow him to start again, maybe even carry out his revenge._

_Suddenly, Zemo frowns. Now that the dirt is gone, the remains of red painting have appeared on the metallic surface. He doesn’t remember red droids. They were all identical puppets, just neutral iron, so what the Hell is he looking at?_

_He remembers something and his heart starts racing. Can it really be?_

_Helmut digs and digs until dawn starts cracking on Sokovia. An arm brings to a shoulder, then a chest. In the middle, still glowing faintly, a blue disc Zemo knows very well. He has seen it on newspapers and television hundreds of times. The whole world knows it._

_Maybe he was wrong. Zemo smiles for the first time in days. Maybe God has left him alive for a reason, maybe what He wants is for Helmut to bring down the Avengers. And He has given him the perfect tool to do it._

_Little by little, Zemo unburies what is left of Tony Stark._

* * *

“I must say, Helmut, I am disappointed.”

Zemo forced himself to take at least a sip of wine. It would have not been wise to offend his host, but he had no stomach for food at the moment. The table he sat at was so overflowing he wondered how it still stood. He never liked opulescence.

“I mean” the other continued “It’s no secret the reason I invested in HYDRA was the asset _you_ provided. An asset you lost.”

Beneath the table, he clenched his fist. It wasn’t his fault. If only that idiot, Dr Frost, hadn’t tinkered around with all her vials and formulas, none of this would have happened. But trying to find justifications was useless, when dealing with Victor Von Doom.

Zemo faked a smile: “Victor, how long have you known me? I will find Stark, it’s only a matter of time.”

“That’s what you keep repeating” Doom replied, with terrifying calm.

If memory served him right, and it always did, Victor and he had known each other for fifteen years. Enough for Helmut to recognize an ultimatum

“You must understand. It’s not easy to find a man who can convince cameras to ignore him.”

“He is no man,” Doom corrected him “T-5 is a weapon, My weapon. I paid a fortune to create it.”

“I know, I-”

“It’s funny, my friend, I thought you’d put more effort in avenging your family.”

Zemo never knew what helped him resist the urge to take the gun at his belt and discharge every bullet on Doom.

The tyrant of Latveria rose from his seat.

“You created this mess, Helmut” Victor hissed “And now you will fix it.”


End file.
